


Dear Mom

by GinnyK



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s05e21 Gaza, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-05-31 04:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15111728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinnyK/pseuds/GinnyK
Summary: Post ep toGaza.





	Dear Mom

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

TO: Noahswife  
FROM: Abner  
SUBJECT: I'm here 

Dear Mom, 

First of all, let me apologize for emailing instead of calling. Honestly, I've managed to hold myself together so far, but if I heard your voice I would completely lose it. And I can't do that now. It's my turn to be the strong one. 

So bear with me, this may ramble a bit. After being awake for nearly 24 hours, being jet-lagged and terrified I'm not exactly thinking clearly. But I can't just sit here doing nothing any longer. 

I'm sorry I had CJ call you to tell you I was on my way to Germany. I didn't have the time to email and I just couldn't call. I'm here now. The flight was fine, I suppose. I don't remember much of it. I reread Donna's emails and tried to sleep. But every time I closed my eyes I saw the explosion and heard Donna screaming. I spent a lot of time just thinking. Thinking about what I need to do, things I need to say, feelings I need to face once and for all, for better or for worse. 

Donna's been emailing me a few times a day, to update me on what was going on in Gaza. But before I got on the plane I hadn't really "read" them. I mean, I skimmed them looking for "important" things. But I hadn't taken the time to really read them. So on the plane I did. What I read nearly made me tear up. I never realized how beautiful her "voice" is. I should probably be worried that Toby would steal her away if he read her emails. Anyway, her writing was beautiful, she painted a picture for me of everyday things in Gaza. Everything she wrote was "important", maybe not politically so, but certainly important for someone to understand what life is like there. She told of the kids in the street, of women in the marketplace and of men working the borders. She joked about her inability to figure out the money, saying she didn't know if she would be run out on a rail or given a parade. She wrote of the meetings, about how 6000 miles from home things were relatively the same, a bunch of people in a room talking in circles, taking a long time to accomplish anything. I could picture her doing the things she wrote about. I could "see" her walking along dusty streets with her hair wavy and blowing in the wind, sitting in meetings with her covered head bowed over a legal pad as she took notes in her "distinctive" handwriting. 

I don't know how much CJ told you about how I ended up here. I kind of lost it at work. Not as bad as that Christmas. I wasn't in the Oval Office. We were just about to go in. I was doing my best to avoid having a full blown episode by breathing deeply and leaning against the wall. People were talking around me. I was trying to pay attention and look at things rationally but I eventually just exploded. Leo called me into the Mural Room after I had made the suggestion to "kill them all". He said something to me. Something that made me realize I've tried to deny how I feel for far too long. He said, "If you'd rather be somewhere else everyone would understand." My first reaction was to say no. Then he looked at me like he hasn't looked at me in a very long time. He looked at me as a father looks at a son. I nodded and I ran down the hall, grabbed my backpack and hailed a cab. And here I am. 

Donna's out of surgery. She has a collapsed lung and a compound open fracture of her right femur. They are worried about blood clots. Which in turn makes me think of Dad. You know what I wish? I wish Dad had had the chance to get to know Donna. I think he would have liked her. I know she would have loved him. 

She's still unconscious and the doctor expects her to remain that way for a few hours. What worries me the most is how pale she is. I know she'd tell me it's because of her alabaster skin. But this is different. She's lost so much blood; it looks like she doesn't have enough left. Although she's cut up and scraped she's never looked more beautiful to me. She has obviously been too busy to do her hair on the trip, so it's wavy. She's got a fresh set of freckles from the sun that are standing out in sharp contrast against her pale face. She hasn't moved since I got here. 

Even though she's unconscious I think she knows I'm here. Any minute now I expect her to wake up and tell me I look like crap. Which, of course, I do. I mean I literally grabbed my backpack and ran from the White House. Thank God I had my passport. It was left in my backpack after the trip to Brussels. Donna hadn't gotten around to confiscating my backpack and cleaning it out yet. I only brought my laptop, my cell phone, pager, a couple of random files, my wallet, Paxil (only because I refilled it on my way home last night) and a toothbrush. I have no clean clothes, razor or blood pressure meds. I will have to see what I can do about getting some. I'm sure I need them at the moment. Now would be a good time to confess that I almost passed out when the doc told me about the metal rod they had to put in Donna's leg. In the past hour the doc has been in here three times. I think to check on me as much as Donna. He just brought some orange juice and sandwich. Which I suppose I should eat before I do pass out. 

In a way, my sitting here waiting for her to wake up brings us to some kind of full circle. Four years ago our positions were reversed and I was lying in bed, pale and hooked up to all kinds of machines. It seems like the past four years have flown by, like I've wasted a part of my life, like we wasted a part of our lives together. Not that I would had given up the last four years. It just makes me realize how fragile life can be. I know that sounds like a cliché, and I suppose it is. You'd think by now I would realize how fragile life is. Guess I just got another wake up call. Last month Dr. Bartlet mused about how many wake up calls I really need. I didn't have an answer for her. 

When CJ first told me there had been an explosion in Gaza I felt my entire body go numb. I could only choke out Donna's name. I stood there frozen until I saw Toby enter the hallway. We were two people feeling the same thing. Our worlds were rocked to the very core. Andi called him a few minutes later and all I could do was ask about Donna. When Andi confirmed that Donna was in the car that exploded I couldn't take my eyes off the monitor. I was staring, looking for a sign, a glimpse, something that would reassure me. CJ walked up behind me and grabbed my arm. I pulled away after a second. I couldn’t let her comfort me. I had to be strong. 

I ate the sandwich and drank the juice, by the way. 

Mom, I feel so guilty. I sent her there. I know it was ultimately her decision to go. But she would have never turned down the chance to go on the trip. Mom, you should have seen the look on her face when I gave her the diplomatic passport. It was like the look she gave me when I handed her my ID tag, a lifetime ago. She had been bugging me about going to Brussels and I couldn't make that happen. Actually, that's not true, but I'm sure you knew that. I didn't try as hard as I could to get her on the Brussels trip. It was just Presidential hand holding and it wasn't what she should have been doing. But I know, at least I'm pretty sure; she wanted to go because she wanted to go on a trip with me. Neither of us have been traveling much lately and while I can't speak for Donna, I miss it. 

Traveling with Donna is an experience, to say the least. No matter where we are we have to stop at a gift shop for post cards or tchotchkes. She must have some impressive collection of snow globes by now. We don't get much sleep when we travel. OK, that came out wrong but you know what I mean. We stay up late, work, watch movies and raid the mini bar. More often than not we end up sleeping in the same room. Believe it or not, Donna snores like a freight train but since I sleep like the dead once I finally give in to my need for sleep, it doesn't bother me all that much. We're always falling asleep together on Air Force One. I can't count the number of times I've pretended to be asleep just to be able to put my head on her shoulder. I can't believe I'm telling you all of this. But it's not like any of it is going to surprise you though. 

I thought the trip would be a good opportunity for her, on some level. But on another level, as CJ so bluntly pointed out, she was being sent as the press babysitter. But it was a CODEL, it was good experience. Or at least it would have been. Now, instead of sharing pictures of her trip with me we can compare scars. That is if she's even going to want to talk to me. 

CJ and Donna were locked in CJ's office two weeks ago when we had the drill. I think they had a rather revealing or heavy conversation and I don't think it went well. They've both been a little cool towards each other. Not fighting, but just not as close as before. I don't know exactly what was said and I probably don't want to know. The night after the drill CJ and I went out for a drink. It had been a long day and we were in desperate need of some alcohol. But I was a little queasy that night (a crappy side effect of the Paxil) so I only had one beer. I lost count of how many CJ had. She got very chatty. She accused me of holding Donna back, of keeping her in her job for my own benefit. I denied it that night but spent a good deal of time thinking about it the next day. I don't think I've held Donna back so much as I haven't encouraged her to move forward. Some may say that's the same thing, but I don't think it is. She's good at what she does and deserves to move forward but I think she's scared. I think she stays because she's afraid of what I'd be like without her. 

I'm afraid of what I'd be without her. Both personally and professionally. 

But that's not a good reason for her to stick with me. And let's face it, there are certain aspects of our relationship that would be easier if she didn't work for me. But right now, none of this really matters. What matters is that Donna is ok. Mom, I don't know what I'd do without her. I'm just sorry it took something like this for me to realize my feelings. I mean, I wasn't completely clueless before, just capable of pushing certain feelings aside, keeping them well hidden for reasons that I can't even make sense of now, reasons that probably don't matter much anymore. 

Leo once called me a compulsive fixer. And at the time I was a little annoyed about that comment but I suppose it is true. I'd give anything to be able to fix this, to make things better, to turn back time. I would take Donna to Brussels, take a picture of her next to the tractors, and eat some brussel sprouts just to make her happy. 

The doctor just stuck his head in; they want to examine a few things and suggested that I might want to leave when they do it. So I will follow his advice, end this and search for somewhere to connect so I can send it. 

As there's not much else we can do, please just pray for Donna. Not that I really need to ask you to do that, I'm sure you already are. I'll call you soon. 

I know I don't say it near enough but I love you very much. 

Love, 

Joshua 


End file.
